


dawn

by Balthuza



Category: Shards of the Sun
Genre: ;(, poor asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 17:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: He can barely sleep the first night after they free him.





	

He can barely sleep the first night after they free him. His back to the wall of the tent, to the side of the entrance so they won’t be able to surprise him in the middle of the night. Grifaris puts a fist under his chin and tires to relax. It doesn’t work.

It’s disquieting, the way they talk about murder like it’s an everyday occurrence. Monsters down below he can understand. The giddiness almost, that the little gnome shows when she comes back from killing back a woman fast asleep, from what he can gather, is something else already.

In the morning it seems he is even more tired than when he went to sleep. There is heaviness in his body he remembers after pushing himself too far, there is hunger lurking constantly right behind a corner, there is thirst that makes his tongue rough and lazy. 

When they offer him food he takes care to eat only as much as they do. He doesn’t know still why they dragged him out of hell, but he’d prefer if they did not throw him back.

The weapon is a surprise. He is unused to it, it’s much larger and less precise than his sword or his bow. Still, the offer is more than he’s ever expected, and he wishes for a better way with language so he could show his gratitude. Nobody listens, obviously.

When he’s unsure, his hands automatically wonder to the amulet, smoothened into silk by years and his hands. This time there is nothing there, and he can't help but imagine if the priests at the temple could see him now. They always liked being proven right.

His neck feels too light, incomplete, and the lack of heartbeat under his fingers makes him jittery, like there’re ants under his skin. He knows the gnome has it, but he will not ask for it.

He once was given the Keeper’s heart freely, and crushed it in his hands like an idiot. 

If there was anyone left to pray to, he’d begging for a second chance. Right now, when he finally manages to fall asleep, he dreams of a heartbeat seeping into the skin of his chest and dark hair under his fingers.


End file.
